


Awkward

by TheRavenintheMoon



Series: Long Lost Souls [3]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hunter - Freeform, cliches, rogue - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-19 23:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRavenintheMoon/pseuds/TheRavenintheMoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dwarf and a night elf attempt to prove that they are not the oldest cliché in the book.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awkward

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I probably own nothing, except maybe my characters. I know that Blizzard, however, owns a small chunk of my soul...

**_Awkward_ **

**_Kherieth and Crystabel_ **

“Lame,” a voice said, deliberately loudly. “A dwarf with her pet bear. I bet you’ve got a giant gun too, and expect us real warriors to be impressed.”

Kherieth glanced around from her seat at the bar, reaching back to tug one of her two long, light brown braids in an old habit as she surveyed the inn for the speaker. The most likely candidates were two large, plate-covered humans standing just to the left of her. One was bearded, bulky, carrying a huge, sharp sword. The other was blonde, with a goatee attempting to cover up the fact that he couldn’t pull off a full beard, and a massive hammer. They were, Kherieth was surprised to realize, talking to her. She surreptitiously looked for the bear they were talking about. There _was_ a bear, to her right, of a nice medium size, with a rich black coat and inquisitive eyes. She’d never seen it before.

Shrugging, deciding not to get involved, since the two were obviously spoiling for a fight, she simply grinned amiably and lifted her mug in a mock salute.

“Typical,” the bearded redhead continued. “Too deep in drink to realize she’s been insulted.”

His friend smirked. “Aye, Ah’ll jus’ hae a plate o’ haggis wi’ tha’,” he badly imitated a dwarven accent.

“An’ one fer me wee bear, as well,” the other added, in an even worse accent.

They fell about laughing, obviously convinced of their comic genius. Kherieth’s smile tightened, hating people like them. They were all one army, fighting the same wars, winning and losing battles in solidarity. They all sought the same thing: a home to come back to when peace was achieved. And yet, there were people who couldn’t accept… It wouldn’t take much to show them that she wasn’t any damn cliché. Eyes narrowed, she worked out a plan of attack. Before she had begun to move, however, the night elf at the table behind her stood up.

The men’s attention was instantly diverted. They stood up straight, trying to surreptitiously buff their plate to a glossier shine.

“Sorry, miss, didn’t see you there,” the blonde said in a voice that was smooth as honey.

The other clumsily, and ridiculously, tried to tip his helmet. “How can we help such a fine lady today?”

The elf surveyed them coolly. They probably treated any priestess like this, but the elf, with her short white hair framing eyes set wide over a deep blue tattoo shaped like wings spread across her cheeks, looked nothing like the priestesses Kherieth had met. The elf's sharp eyes flickered towards the dwarf as she began to fade into the background, then back to the two men. “You can shut your mouths and _look_ around you,” she snapped at them.

“Oh, believe me, we are looking—”

She cut him off, voice like ice. “ _If_ you had looked, you’d have noticed that the dwarf was no hunter. She had knives. And she was drinking water—I’d guess she doesn’t drink on the job, because her blades were coated in some sort of poison, and I believe those wear off after a time. Also, she seems to have vanished.”

The men scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart. She probably just slunk off to have a good cry under the mountain.” But their laughter was a bit uncomfortable. The bear, they noticed, was still sitting there, eyeing them as coolly as the elf, though the dwarf was nowhere to be seen.

“Gentlemen,” the night elf addressed them sarcastically, “where was it you kept your coin purses?” With a thin smile, she lifted a hand and beckoned to the bear. “Come, Taliessin.”

Jaws dropping, they finally noticed the large bow slung over the huntress’s shoulder, as the bear docilely followed her out of the inn.

∞

Kherieth, safely outside the building, laughed to herself in delight at the howls of dismay filtering through the window. It seemed the two men had noticed that their money was gone. With a satisfied smile, the rogue tossed the purse in her hand just to hear the sweet sound of clinking gold. Movement at the door caught her eye; the night elf was leaving. With a sound like a sigh, Kherieth slipped into the shadows and stepped up behind the huntress.

The bear growled softly, drawing the rumbling sound out until Kherieth unstealthed. “Clever trick,” the huntress murmured.

“Thank you for the distraction,” the rogue said, tossing the purse again with an impish grin. “I’m Kherieth.” She offered her free hand.

“Crystabel.” The two shook hands. “Where was it you were headed, Kherieth?”

She smiled at the huntress. “Well, there’s this spy who’s holed up on the side of a mountain…” And the dwarf and the elf slipped off together, a perfect cliché.


End file.
